


Tea in Malta

by aurora_australis



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Reunions, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: Time is relative, even for those who do not die, and especially when one is separated from the person they love most.Still, Nicolo figures there are worse places to wait than Malta.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 16
Kudos: 138





	Tea in Malta

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Movrings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Movrings/gifts).



> Despite how very much I loved the movie, I had not planned to play in this particular sandbox. But then movrings and lee-sch prompted me on Tumblr with the following lovely idea and, well, here we go: _Joe and Nicky have a major fight and go their separate ways and maybe accidentally due circumstances or intentionally lost each other in the world and then they finally met again in some place. and that place happened to be Malta._
> 
> Originally posted on [Tumblr](https://aurora-australis-tumbles.tumblr.com/post/627612028097462272/tea-in-malta). Posting it here as well because I can never find anything there. ;-)

What bothers Nicolo most — except, of course, for the obvious — is how stupid the argument had been.

Not so stupid that it didn’t necessitate a little space apart, but stupid enough that he knows in a century they will have both forgotten the details.

He’s already having trouble with the specifics.

He remembers angry words, some meant, some not. The ones he meant weren’t worth the cost of saying them. Not really. Not about this, something so obviously ephemeral one day he’ll say, “do you know, I was thinking about that time in the Canaries,” and Yusuf will ask, “why?” and he won’t be able to recall.

A stupid fight that would undoubtedly have ended once cooler heads prevailed except this time they don’t get the chance.

They are on separate sides of Tenerife when a tropical storm the likes of which the island has never seen hits it full force.

Nicolo helps with the evacuation, knows wherever he is Yusuf is doing the same.

Knows he’ll remember that part.

In the chaos they wind up on different ships, heading to different ports, but they have planned for this eventuality. They have contingencies, points of contact, places they can meet.

The closest one is technically Barcelona, but Nicolo dismisses it almost immediately; too much treacherous sea travel after so close a call, and neither of them would want to contemplate that particular fate for the other.

So Malta it is.

Nicolo takes the land route, which is slower, but he doesn’t mind. He is patient. Yusef always says he is patient. He is a sniper, after all, though whether the skill or the trait came first he does not remember.

He arrives in Valletta after several weeks of travel, and a short boat trip he grudgingly endures, realizing too late that he doesn’t know who is running things on Malta these days. A quick investigation reveals it is the British. 

Shit.

Well at least the tea will be good.

He approaches the hotel they had stayed in once before cautiously; the world keeps changing and what was a safe place several decades ago may not be so safe today. He makes a mental note to update their plan more frequently going forward and decides today it is worth the risk to wait… for however long that is.

But that is fine. He is patient.

He takes a room with a balcony and a good view of Marsamxett Harbour. He does not truly think that he will be able to see Yusuf arrive, but he likes to pretend. From his solitary perch, he enjoys the breeze and the sun. And it feels right, somehow, to meet again in this place, which sits directly between the cities they called home, before home became each other.

He spends one week waiting, then another. Each day he orders the good tea and watches the harbour and waits, all the while wishing Yusuf would hurry up and arrive.

He is patient but he hates it.

It is maddening, a bit, and remarkable too, to know you might have multiple millennia with someone and still feel like any time apart is wasted.

He knows they are lucky, but he also knows their time together is not infinite, even if it is protracted, and the greedy part of him knows too that however much time they have together it will not be enough.

He is all and he is more.

Nicolo sighs and orders another tea to his room.

Four weeks into his sojourn, Nicolo has a dream. He can’t quite remember it when he wakes, but he wakes smiling and that is enough.

That morning he orders two cups of tea, one with extra sugar.

As the sun rises higher, he watches the harbour more closely. He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but he knows, he _knows_ all the same. Yusuf would call it instinct, and Nicolo knows his are good — he’d say they are what have kept him alive all this time, but that would be ludicrous — but to him instinct usually means trouble and all he feels now is peace.

Soon, sooner than even he anticipated, he hears the door to his room open. Nicolo does not turn around as familiar soft steps cross the room, as an adored scent envelopes him and beloved lips kiss his neck in greeting.

“You’re late,” is all he says, in English or Italian or perhaps he just thinks it. It doesn’t matter. The lips pressing against his skin curve into a smile all the same.

Nicolo takes his lover’s hand and leaves his lonely perch for the safety of home.

And, on the balcony, the teas grow cold.


End file.
